


The Value of Rebellion

by ficbear



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Face Slapping, Fight Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficbear/pseuds/ficbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitsuhide wonders just how far Motochika is willing to take this. It's a frightening thought, but Mitsuhide can't take his eyes off the two of them. No matter how reckless Motochika is, or how cruel his lord is, he wants to see it all. Mitsuhide owes his friend that much – after all, this show is for <em>his</em> benefit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Value of Rebellion

"Sounds like your lord is here already." Motochika says, relinquishing his hold on Mitsuhide and pushing the younger man back with a roguish smile. "Time for you to take up your hiding place."

Mitsuhide nods, allowing himself to be shepherded into the closet, and draws the screen door almost completely shut behind him. The slim gap in the door gives him a good view of the centre of the room, and a perfect view of his friend. Motochika looks confident and keen, so much more self-assured than Mitsuhide would be in his place. He stands there, waiting as casually as if he were expecting a visit from a friend rather than the Demon King himself. It's incomprehensible to Mitsuhide. How can Motochika be so free of nerves?

"It's been a while since I received an invitation like this from you, Bat."

Mitsuhide shivers just at the sound of that voice. He can't quite see Nobunaga, but he can see Motochika's face clearly, and the arrogant look in his eyes makes Mitsuhide flinch a little.

"Maybe I'm just lonely and in need of some company today…" Motochika says, shrugging.

"Or perhaps you've simply become desperate for an audience, and you'll take whatever attention you can get."

" _Desperate_? What-"  

Motochika's outburst is choked off by a sudden hand around his throat. Nobunaga advances on him, coming into view at last, and Mitsuhide finds his heart pounding as if it were his own throat in that tight grip. He's been held like that so many times before, struggling to breathe but loving every touch, and yet he's never seen this look in his lord's eyes. The flickers of amusement and desire are familiar enough, but the anger burning alongside them is new to him.

Motochika puts his hand up as if to push Nobunaga away, but before he can make contact, the older man catches hold of his wrist and shoves him back against the wall. Mitsuhide can't help but tense up. Pinned in that position, he'd expect a deep kiss and the weight of his lord's body pressing against him, but who knows what Motochika will receive instead?

"You're too careless, Bat. If you're going to oppose me, you'll need to try harder than that." Nobunaga says, soft and mocking, as he throws Motochika back into the centre of the room.

Motochika slips back into a fighting stance apparently effortlessly, and launches himself at Nobunaga. He throws punch after punch, but each is blocked, and with each deflection Mitsuhide grows more fascinated by the scene. Watching his friend uselessly clashing again and again with Nobunaga, watching the bare muscles of Motochika's chest and arms become slick with sweat as the fight continues, Mitsuhide wonders just how far Motochika is willing to take this. It's a frightening thought, but Mitsuhide can't take his eyes off the two of them. No matter how reckless Motochika is, or how cruel his lord is, he wants to see it all. Mitsuhide owes his friend that much – after all, this show is for _his_ benefit.

Despite his fascination, the dull thud of Nobunaga's fist connecting with Motochika's stomach makes Mitsuhide wince, and he clings to himself as he watches Motochika double over in pain. Nobunaga brings his elbow down hard on Motochika's back, and the blow seems so brutal that Mitsuhide can barely keep quiet. At last, as Motochika falls to his hands and knees, Mitsuhide can see an end in sight; all his friend needs to do now is to submit, to kneel there, bow his head, and let Nobunaga take what he wants.

"Is that all?" Motochika says, looking up at Nobunaga with a defiant smile. "Are you getting tired, old man?"

Mitsuhide covers his mouth, stifling the protest welling up in his throat, and watches as his lord delivers a savage kick to Motochika's ribs. The force of the blow knocks Motochika over onto his back, but in moments he's on his feet again, apparently unwilling to stay down even now. He seems unstoppable. Motochika charges forward again to throw another punch, grunting in frustration as Nobunaga blocks the blow, and follows the thwarted punch with a desperate knee strike aimed at the older man's ribs.

"You're flagging, Bat." Nobunaga says, catching hold of Motochika's leg as he blocks the kick, and bringing his free hand up to the younger man's throat. He holds Motochika in place like that for a moment, then lifts him up by the throat and sends him crashing down onto the nearby table.

Mitsuhide winces as the table breaks under the force of Motochika's falling body, but his eyes are fixed on the scene. He desperately wants his friend to submit, to stop bringing more and more punishment down onto himself, but despite that there's a small part of Mitsuhide that wants to see just how far his lord will go to break Motochika, to see how many bruises or broken bones it will take to subdue him. Digging his nails into his thighs, Mitsuhide tries to steady his breathing and keep quiet. He absolutely must not interrupt the two of them before this has come to an end.

A darker hunger than Mitsuhide has seen before burns in Nobunaga's eyes. He stands over Motochika, reaches down to grab hold of the leather of the younger man's harness, and hauls him up out of the debris of the table. "Yield," Nobunaga commands, and brings the palm of his hand down hard across Motochika's face.

"Not a chance." Motochika smiles, his cheek flushing deep pink under the dark lines of his tattoo.

The next slap is harder, and Nobunaga follows it with several more, knocking Motochika's head back and forth with the force of the blows. Mitsuhide bites his lip as he watches, imagining the sting of that cruel hand striking his own cheek. The thought of being beaten so savagely is frightening and exhilarating, and Mitsuhide struggles to keep quiet as he watches.

"This is your last chance, Bat." Nobunaga pauses, his hand gripping Motochika's chin. "Yield willingly, before I force you to."

A trickle of blood seeps out of Motochika's lip where the blows have split it, and he darts his tongue out to lick at the wound. The taste of his own blood seems to invigorate Motochika, and he grins up at Nobunaga. "Go to hell."

Anger and amusement mingle in Nobunaga's expression, and he laughs softly, raising his hand to strike the next blow. Motochika's defiance thrills Mitsuhide, and now he finds himself eager to see his friend provoke more and more cruelty, more and more pain. He slips his hand beneath his robes, unable to ignore his arousal anymore, and begins to stroke himself lightly as he watches his lord raining blows down across Motochika's unrepentant face.

Nobunaga's hand is unrelenting, striking Motochika again and again, gradually driving the fire from the younger man's eyes. Before long Motochika is dazed and silent, his mouth swollen and bloodied, and his breathing shallow and ragged. At last Nobunaga releases his hold, letting Motochika fall to the floor amidst the fragments of the shattered table. He smiles coldly as he stands over Motochika, looking down at him with amused contempt. "Pathetic," Nobunaga says, and turns to leave.

Mitsuhide watches, silently willing Motochika to get up again, as his lord walks towards the door. It can't end now; Motochika can't have come this far just to let Nobunaga leave like this. Gripping the fabric of his robes tightly in his fists, Mitsuhide keeps his gaze fixed on his friend's face, on those half-closed eyes and bruised lips. When Motochika finally stirs, Mitsuhide can barely suppress his excitement.

A desperate, feral growl hums in Motochika's throat as he launches himself at Nobunaga, and the ferocity of it is as frightening to Mitsuhide as it is thrilling. Nobunaga turns with a smile and grabs hold of the younger man's wrists, effortlessly halting his attack. Before Motochika can react, Nobunaga seizes his throat and pushes him backwards, forcing him back until he's pressed up close to the door of the closet that conceals Mitsuhide. They're frustratingly out of sight, and yet the two of them are so close to Mitsuhide now that, were it not for the door separating them, he could reach out and touch his lord. Pressing his lips closed, Mitsuhide holds his breath and tries desperately not to make the slightest noise. This close, even the faintest gap would reveal his presence, and he has no idea how Nobunaga would react to finding him secluded there.

The door rattles in its frame, and Motochika gives a strangled groan. Choking gasps follow the groan, and Mitsuhide guesses that his lord must be almost crushing Motochika's throat in his hand. From the clattering of Motochika's heels knocking against the closet door, he must be several inches off the ground, pinned in Nobunaga's grasp and helpless. Mitsuhide imagines the look on Motochika's face, the defiance that must still be burning in his eyes. The thought makes Mitsuhide shiver. From the strained, gasping breaths he can hear, Nobunaga must be exerting far more force now than he ever had with Mitsuhide; he must be bringing Motochika right to the very edge of unconsciousness, pushing him so much further than Mitsuhide had ever been pushed.

Nobunaga gives a curt, satisfied chuckle, and there's a sudden crashing sound. Motochika lands on the floor in the centre of the room, back in view at last, and Mitsuhide watches him hungrily. Motochika kneels where he landed, holding himself up on his hands and knees, taking deep, ravenous breaths. Even now the look on his face is fierce, but he stays in position where Nobunaga put him, holding still as the older man advances on him. Mitsuhide drinks in the sight, running his gaze over the sweat-slicked muscles of his friend's body, over the flushed skin of his face, over the damp locks of white hair that fall messily across his brow. The temptation to throw the closet door open and join them is stronger than ever, and Mitsuhide grips himself tightly, struggling to suppress the urge.

"No more fight left to give, Bat?" Nobunaga's voice is low and almost soft. Mitsuhide can hear the rustling of clothes and the familiar clinking of one of his lord's customary vials of oil being retrieved; sure enough, when Nobunaga comes into view, the little bottle is in his hand, already unstoppered. He kneels behind Motochika and reaches around beneath him, unceremoniously unfastening and yanking down the younger man's leathers. There's no carefulness about it, none of the deliberation Mitsuhide is used to. Nobunaga wastes no time, pushing the fingers of one oiled hand between Motochika's buttocks and reaching down with the other to bare his own cock. With barely any preparation at all, Nobunaga lines himself up and thrusts forward, impaling Motochika in one stroke.

Mitsuhide can see his friend tensing and gritting his teeth as Nobunaga's cock sinks inside him. In his place, Mitsuhide would be whimpering and moaning, but Motochika is almost silent. Only when Nobunaga draws back and thrusts forward again does Motochika utter a sound, hissing a curse that melts into a groan as the older man picks up his pace. Mitsuhide strokes his own cock in time with his lord's thrusts, biting his lip to stifle a moan as he watches. The sound of Nobunaga's hips slamming against Motochika's ass echoes around the room, and Mitsuhide can hear his own pulse throbbing alongside that pounding rhythm. The sight of his friend, beaten and subdued, bent over and fucked so roughly, is almost too much for Mitsuhide. He knows he won't last long, and he lightens his touch as he strokes himself, not wanting to finish a moment before his lord.

Motochika is less stoic now, groaning harshly each time Nobunaga's cock plunges in to the hilt. His skin gleams with sweat, and drops of it trickle down the length of his throat and chest. Mitsuhide watches the rivulets, wishing he could crawl across the floor to where his friend is kneeling and lick the sweat from his skin, following the trail down until he reached Motochika's cock, taking the length of it in his mouth and pleasuring him in time with Nobunaga's strokes. The thought of it is so tempting, so maddening, that Mitsuhide struggles to suppress a moan. All he can do is watch, rapt, as his friend is impaled again and again, taking with practised ease what would have Mitsuhide writhing and begging.

At last Nobunaga's pace quickens and a low groan of satisfaction rumbles in his throat. He's close, and Mitsuhide gratefully tightens his grip on his cock, allowing himself to finally edge closer and closer to his own climax. Biting his lip, he lingers on the precipice of it, waiting until the exact moment that his lord begins to come, before letting go himself. Closing his eyes unconsciously, Mitsuhide digs his fingers into his palms and tries with all his might not to cry out as his orgasm overwhelms him. He can hear his lord's groans, and the rapid, hard slapping of flesh against flesh, and it's all far too much for him to resist. He throws his head back, silently shuddering with pleasure, keeping his eyes squeezed shut until the last wave of his climax has washed over him.

A breathless chuckle breaks the silence. "Leaving already? How cold."

Mitsuhide opens his eyes, focusing blearily on Motochika, who is now lying sprawled face-up on the floor, half-undressed and still obviously aroused. Motochika is looking up bemusedly at Nobunaga, watching the older man finish dressing. "What about me?"

Nobunaga smiles. "Oh, I'm sure Mitsuhide can take care of that for you."


End file.
